Poetry With A Shade Of Brown
The Adventures of Gordon Brown
Gordon Brown, Gordon Brown, riding through the glen.
Gordon Brown, Gordon Brown, with his hapless men,
Steals from the rich, steals from the poor,
Gordon Brown... Gordon Brown... Gordon Brown...
Like Shit to a Blanket
A government of all the talents?
You must be insane.
For when you unveiled it,
It included Peter Hain.
Margaret Beckett Left Cat Hairs Everywhere
David Milliband has a funny face,
David Milliband looks so out of place.
We don’t know if David Milliband has a funny ass,
David Milliband talks about Greenhouse Gas.
You might think David Milliband has a stupid looking head,
Until you see his brother Ed.
Balls
Brown has Balls,
That’s Yvette and Ed.
Why she stuck with her maiden name,
She hasn’t said.
Probably didn’t want to be called Mrs. Balls.
Et tu, Browny?
On that bright May afternoon we got rid of John Major,
A landslide victory, he was well out of favour.
Shortly after, Paddy Ashdown got the itch,
To go bitch-slap Slobodan Miloševic.
William Hague was the next one to go,
Perhaps he was too young, we’ll never know.
Iain Duncan Smith, what a Tory mishap!
You could tell from the start he was unabridged crap.
Widdy said Howard had something of the night,
He certainly had something - mainly shite.
Charles Kennedy enjoyed a full glass,
Until the Lib-Dems threw him out on his ass.
But through it all Gordon, you were there,
Plotting to get rid of Prime Minister Blair.
You stupid cunt.
Prescott in ‘C’ Minor
For ten years in the cabinet.
John Prescott had a chair,
Reinforced by steel girders,
Just so he could sit there.
Since the times a-changed,
Prescott no longer calls,
His chair is filled by Cooper
And she is filled by Balls.
Lis-bon-Appétite
Despite your volution,
On the EU constitution,
All its contents remain.
Yes the treaty’s the same.
Nothing like Jefferson,
Requiring Gaviscon
To swallow it with top-up fees.
A politician’s promise – please!
Next time just print your manifesto on bog roll.
The Brothers Milliband
David and Ed,
Brothers in cabinet,
When you were kids
You were known to shit a bit
On your parents sofa,
And all over the floor,
And once in the bath,
But never near the door.
Now you are men,
Well, one boy and one man,
Your surname is stupid,
Fuck off to Japan.
Numerous Numbers
From a humble beginning
In the chills of Scotland,
With not even a calculator
To count your spots on.
You read and read,
And came to the fore,
As a co-operative candidate,
And so much more.
You kept your mouth shut,
Did the sums,
Remained a virgin
Until age 51.
You live in 10,
Worked in 11,
You spent much time
Admiring Bevan.
When push came to shove,
You were a formidable force,
You had your groupies,
They yelled until hoarse.
Now you work in 10,
And look so grumpy,
You'll probably look worse
When the country dumps ye.
On The Pot
Gordo, worry not,
Take your shit,
You're on the pot.
Ignore Dave Boy's calls,
He's a toff,
He's got no balls.
Things are going tits up,
But it’s not your fault,
You inherited this piss cup.
From you're old mate Tone,
And his wife
And their stupid Home.
What is really charring,
He had you,
But you've got Darling.
Crap Chancellors Make Good Neighbours
Blair left Number 10,
Remember the joy then?
The dragon had been slain,
We could all start again!
Our schools would work,
And our hospitals too,
But it turns out they don’t
And it’s all down to you.
You sat for 10 years,
Waiting to get your hands on the gears,
Now you grip them like steel,
But you’ve let go of the wheel.
You appointed your cronies
And they’re all worse than Tony’s.
Your freewheeling monster now heads for the abyss,
Just how the hell did it ever come to this?
No more elections for New Labour glories,
We’re all fucked now because here come the Tories.
Forget It, Regret It
Forget the West Lothian question,
It’s a Tory obsession.
Forget the withdrawal,
It's a Catholic moral.
Forget about Tony,
The grinning phony.
Forget about the banks,
Bunch of wanks.
Forget about the Olympics,
Leotarded dicks.
Forget about Norn Iron,
They'll do their own wiring.
Forget about the U.S,
It’s a bushy abcess.
Forget about the frogs,
Their women are dogs.
Forget about the UN,
A talking pig-pen.
But the one thing you must do,
To make everyone love you,
Let thy will be done
And bang Ann Widdecome.
Prudence Is My Wife, Now Meet My Mistress
Northern Rock,
Plummeting stock.
Taxpayers’ money,
Sweet like honey.
Prop it up.
Sell it cheap.
In the shit -
In neck deep.
Disposed Under Westminster Bridge
Terror attacks welcomed you in,
Distracting us from what laid within.
You presided over floods in the south,
Then you gave us foot and mouth.
By the day blue tongue came,
We had sussed your inept game,
Inheritance tax, what a stupid call,
When your voters inherit nothing at all.
“I support the England team”
How fucking obscene.
What do you stand for?
What do you mean?
Fuck off.
Ode to Brown
Gordon Brown,
Like Gretna, going down.
Kirkcaldy just a shitty town.
Never a smile,
Always a frown,
Not a Prime Minister,
A fucking clown.
If you're down with the Brown, email your words of wisdom to
down-with-brown@randomshite.co.uk
